


Cabin Pressure: The Z Episode

by Ariane_DeVere



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Angst, Angst and Humor, Arthur being ... Arthur, Douglas POV, Douglas being Douglas, Friendship, Gen, Humor, John Finnemore - Freeform, MJN Air, Martin being a BAMF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-10
Updated: 2013-06-14
Packaged: 2017-12-14 13:34:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/837437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ariane_DeVere/pseuds/Ariane_DeVere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There have been several stories written by different authors with their suggestions of how events may unfold after the events of <i>Yverdon-les-Bains</i>.  This ... is one of them.</p><p>It’s not for me to urge you to read this story because it really is entirely up to you, but I <i>am</i> tempted to use the words of Giancarlo/Mandela in <i>Timbuktu</i>: “No, ’ave a proper look! I spent <i>ages</i> on that!”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

“All ready for the final flight of MJN Air, are we, Arthur?” asks Douglas as the young man bursts into the flight deck.

“Yeah, I am!” says Arthur enthusiastically. “I’ve given GERTI a special hoovering, I dusted _everything_ and washed down the windows, and I even de-scaled the kettle!”

“I’m sure she appreciates the effort,” Douglas says dryly. “Although I thought you’d be a _bit_ less excited, what with this being our last job and all.”

“Oh, I am,” Arthur assures him. “I mean, it’s really sad that this is our last flight, but I’m looking forward to seeing Martin; and I’m _really_ excited about going to live in a control tower!”

Douglas muses on the events of the past few months since Martin moved to Zurich to take up his new job with Swiss Air. He’s reluctant to admit to himself that he misses the young pilot but flying alone has been rather boring and most of their last few trips as MJN Air have been cargo flights. Having only Arthur on board has been more than a little trying and Douglas has missed the banter with Martin or – and this is even _more_ difficult for him to admit – with Carolyn. She has kept the company going for this long by taking short-haul flights that only require one pilot, and in the meantime has miraculously persuaded Mr. Alyakhin to buy GERTI from her. The yacht broker’s thought that he might be able to offer flights on GERTI as a ‘retro experience’ has been surprisingly successful and some of his regular clients actively _ask_ for the battered old aeroplane for their trips to the south of France, or recommend it to their friends. With no way of keeping MJN going for long with only one pilot, Carolyn has not only talked him into buying the plane for a reasonable price but – after much negotiation – has persuaded him that he needs a pilot who knows GERTI’s quirks and can keep her in the air.

Douglas isn’t particularly happy at having to move abroad with the plane but Mr. Alyakhin wants her based in Germany for easy access to the continent, and so far Douglas’ two house-hunting trips to Zwickau have shown that it’s a pleasant enough town and – more importantly – he can easily get back to England to visit his daughter. He’s fairly fluent in German already, and he’s confident that he’ll cope once he finds somewhere to live and settles in.

Today’s final flight will give them enough time to get to the airport in Greece, unload their cargo and then return to Fitton later this afternoon. Mr. Alyakhin’s representative will meet them on arrival, sign off all the documentation and Douglas will fly GERTI to her new home tomorrow. He will rent a room until he can find his own place to live.

Meanwhile Carolyn will use the money to pay off MJN’s debts and will have just enough left over after the sale of her house to buy somewhere smaller for herself and Arthur. Determined not to simply retire, she has decided to run a small bed and breakfast. Douglas continually marvels at the thought of Carolyn still wanting to work with people despite how exasperating she finds the majority of the human race. He suspects that insulting people is what keeps her going, and he’s sure that she’ll make a success of her new venture. Knowing her, she might even become famous for being a female version of Basil Fawlty. It seems that she and GERTI have a similar talent for being strangely popular _because_ of their faults.

Her house-hunting came to a head when Arthur spotted a place for sale in Zeals in Wiltshire. Not far from the main trunk road between London and the South West, it’s ideal for a small b&b but what caught Arthur’s attention is that it’s a former control tower of a long-closed airfield which was converted into a house decades ago. The thought of living in a control tower sent Arthur into ecstasies and he and Carolyn have visited it twice, and negotiations are ongoing as to the purchase price. Arthur has spent hours pestering Karl to teach him everything there is to know about air traffic control, despite the house not retaining any of its original equipment. Karl doesn’t seem to mind, enjoying having a young protégé even if Arthur rarely remembers much of what he’s been told, and Arthur’s looking forward to passing on his lack of knowledge to anyone who’s brave or naïve enough to spend a night at the new house.

“All right, driver, let’s get this thing in the air.” Carolyn interrupts Douglas’ reverie as she enters the flight deck. Their last job is a straightforward cargo flight and she doesn’t need to be along for the ride, but a recent Skype conversation between Arthur and Martin revealed that – purely coincidentally – Martin is co-piloting a flight to MJN’s final destination and they can meet up with him briefly at the airport. Douglas suspects that Carolyn would have come with them to Greece anyway – despite her constant assertions that she has no regrets selling GERTI and that it was a sensible business deal, he’s sure that she’ll miss the old girl a little.

“Then all aboard for Zakynthos,” he says cheerily.

“Zakynthos ho!” enthuses Arthur.

Douglas activates the radio. “Fitton Tower, this is Golf Echo Romeo Tango India, ready for the final flight of MJN Air. Pray tell: which way’s the sky?”

“Roger, Golf Tango India,” responds Karl. “Proceed to runway, aim in a generally upward direction, and Greece is the word!”

“Roger, Tower, and be assured that we are Hopelessly Devoted To You,” Douglas replies and taxis GERTI towards the runway. As he brings her to a halt prior to lining up for take-off, Arthur gasps and points out of the starboard window.

“Oh, wow! Mum, Douglas, _look_!” he exclaims.

A large sheet is hanging from the windowsill of the control tower. Clumsily painted in black letters on the sheet is the message, “FARWELL, MJN AIR.” The missing ‘E’ has then been added above the first word with an arrow underneath to show where it ought to be. Many of the engineers, mechanics and ground crew have lined up side by side outside the tower and each of them is holding up an empty pint glass from the Hose and Hydrant in silent salute.

As Arthur waves cheerfully at them through the window, Douglas pretends that Carolyn’s choked cough isn’t hiding a sob. He equally pretends that Arthur’s over-enthusiastic dusting is the reason why he’s got a tear in his eye.

* * *

“So why _didn’t_ Herc take the job with Swiss Air?” asks Douglas an hour later.

“I _told_ you,” Carolyn says tetchily. “He decided he didn’t want to live in Zurich.”

“Any particular reason why?” Douglas teases.

Carolyn glowers at him. “He didn’t want to keep travelling between Switzerland and England all the time,” she snaps.

“And _why_ would he want to keep coming back to England?” Douglas persists.

“For the opera,” she says tightly.

“Ah, the opera, of course,” Douglas says. “Because the Swiss haven’t invented opera yet, have they? It’s absolutely impossible to go anywhere in Switzerland that has theatres or opera houses or even a small shed where budding singers can have a go at singing with a bit of vibrato. What a terrible backward country it must be.”

“Shut up, Douglas,” Carolyn says, and leaves him alone in the flight deck.

Douglas sighs. He really shouldn’t tease her about Herc’s decision, as he’s sure that she is more touched by his actions than she will ever admit. Taking redundancy after so many years at Cal Air has left Herc moderately well-off but not so wealthy that he can afford never to work again until retirement age. So far he hasn’t been able to find suitable employment elsewhere, and there’s little that any of his friends can do to help. Twice since Martin’s departure Carolyn has been offered a two-pilot job that paid well enough for her to swallow her pride and ask for Herc’s assistance in return for a token fee, but it was clearly embarrassing for both of them and Douglas later found an email on the office computer offering a similar job, which Carolyn had turned down. He hasn’t dared ask whether Herc will be moving to Zeals when Arthur and Carolyn relocate.

The rest of the flight is uneventful, with the exception of Arthur bouncing into the flight deck occasionally to tell Douglas all about the banner on Fitton Tower as if he hadn’t seen it himself. It’s a welcome distraction and Douglas listens patiently to the young man’s enthusiasm.

They touch down at Zakynthos International five minutes ahead of schedule and taxi to the hangars to have the cargo unloaded. Martin’s flight is due in within the hour and Douglas is happy to admit to himself that he’s looking forward to seeing him again. They’ve kept in touch by email – Douglas isn’t confident enough with his IT skills to try using Skype – but Martin hasn’t written much about his experiences working as a pilot for Swiss Air, which Douglas finds surprising. He has tried interrogating Arthur about his conversations with their former captain but Arthur has been rather evasive and has had an unusually uncomfortable look on his face as he avoids directly answering Douglas’ questions. The fact that he actually succeeds in evading the questions is both impressive and worrying.

With nothing to do for the next fifty minutes, Douglas suggests that they find a café and have some lunch. He announces that he’s buying, and grandly throws open the cabin door to gesture the other two outside and down the steps.

And that’s the moment – after so many years of never failing him – when Douglas Richardson’s luck runs out.

* * *

Author’s Note: I got rather excited when I was researching towns and cities both in England and on the continent with names beginning with Z, and found Zeals. The former control tower house on the decommissioned airfield actually exists:

And just for anyone who’s bewildered, “Greece is the word” comes from the musical _Grease_ (where the line – obviously! – was ‘Grease is the word’), and the song _Hopelessly Devoted To You_ comes from the same musical.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

“Oh, look, there’s Skip!” Arthur cries excitedly an hour later as he sees Martin walking across the concourse with a man in a matching uniform. He calls out loudly. “Skip, hello! We’re here!”

Martin raises a hand and changes direction to walk towards them, followed by the other man. Arthur looks round apologetically. “Sorry, Douglas ...”

“It’s all right,” Douglas tells him. “I know Martin will always be ‘Skip’ to you. I think I’m confident enough in my own skip-ness not to take offence.”

Beside him, Carolyn draws in a sharp breath as Martin comes closer. “He doesn’t look well,” she murmurs, and Douglas quietly hums his agreement. Their former captain ought to be the picture of health – he has put on a little weight, no doubt a result of eating properly for the first time in years, and he is wearing a well-fitting uniform and a hat which sits comfortably on his head and isn’t laden down with excessive braid. He looks smart and successful, but there’s something about his face which makes Douglas grimace unhappily. Martin looks tired – not in a lack-of-sleep way but in a deeper, more painful way. Maybe ‘tired’ is the wrong word. He looks _weary_.

His smile is genuine, however, as he reaches them. He seems truly delighted to see them all, although his grin fades into a look of concern when he sees the sling on Douglas’ left arm. But before he can speak he’s engulfed in a hug by Arthur, his face squashed against the young man’s shoulder as Arthur tries to cuddle every part of him simultaneously, squeezing him tightly and babbling so rapidly that his words run into each other and make no sense at all.

“Arthur!” Carolyn says sharply. “For goodness’ sake let him go before you suffocate him!”

Arthur jumps back, grinning apologetically as Martin emerges red-faced and breathless. “Sorry, Skip,” he says. “I’m just _really_ pleased to see you.”

“I know,” Martin pants. “It’s good to see you too. Hello Carolyn, and what on earth have you done to yourself, Douglas?”

“Nothing much.” Douglas replies airily. “I had a bit of an argument with GERTI’s steps. Well, when I say ‘argument’, they sat there and didn’t do anything and were generally boring, and so I decided it would be far more interesting to go down them head first and then break my fall with my shoulder.”

Martin winces and Douglas continues reassuringly. “We’ve all had a lovely time in the medical centre. I’ve had fun with an X-ray machine – sadly they wouldn’t let Arthur play – and now I have a delightful sling courtesy of Zakynthos International’s fine medical staff. It’s not quite as exciting as a plaster cast, but I’ll still let you sign it if you ask nicely.”

Not waiting for a reply, he turns to the uniformed man who has followed Martin and is standing nearby with a condescending look on his face. Douglas takes an instant dislike to him and his feelings are confirmed when the man slowly looks him up and down, pointedly paying close attention to Douglas’ rumpled shirt and trousers which are scuffed and dirty from their impact with the tarmac. Forcing a nonchalant smile, Douglas offers his right hand. “Douglas Richardson.”

“Radek Zaragoza,” the man replies, shaking his hand with a grip that is too strong.

“Good to meet you, Captain,” Douglas tells him insincerely.

“No, _I’m_ the capt...” Martin blurts out, but then stops himself. “Oh,” he adds quietly, a slight blush rising into his cheeks.

Ignoring Martin’s gaffe, Douglas introduces Arthur and Carolyn, noting Arthur’s soft whimper as Zaragoza mangles his hand. Carolyn’s jaw clenches but she shows no other outward sign of her discomfort. Douglas’ hackles rise even further when the man smiles smugly.

“So, you are Crieff’s former colleagues,” the captain says. “He has been telling me all about you during the flight here. It sounds a strange company.” He turns his attention to Carolyn. “You are the owner, yes?”

“And CEO,” Carolyn says tightly.

“Chief Executive Officer of one airplane,” Zaragoza says with an amused look. “How busy you must be, yes? And I understand that this is your final flight.” He shrugs. “It’s probably for the best. Crieff pointed out your plane as we taxied to the stand. I wouldn’t have believed that any Lockheed McDonnells of that age were still in active service – and your one certainly looks rather the worse for wear.”

“GERTI works just fine!” Arthur protests. “She’s never let us down – and even when she does break a bit, Douglas always finds a way to fix her.”

Zaragoza gives him a withering look. “You give your airplane a name?” he asks, his sarcasm obvious.

“It’s her call sign,” Arthur begins to explain eagerly, but Carolyn puts a hand on his arm.

“Not now, Arthur,” she tells him, throwing a dark look at the captain. He smirks back at her, and Douglas is wondering how soon she’s going to start an argument with him when Martin interrupts.

“Douglas, how badly have you damaged your arm?” he asks.

“It’s not broken, only wrenched,” Douglas reassures him. “It should heal fairly quickly.”

“But he can’t fly,” Arthur bursts out. Douglas glares at him but Arthur perseveres. “He’s not allowed to fly us home, Skip, so we can’t get back in time to hand GERTI over to Mr. Alyakhin, so Douglas won’t get the job flying for his company, and Mum won’t get the money for selling GERTI and we won’t be able to afford to move to Zeals and live in a control tower. It’s a right pickle, Martin! But don’t worry – Douglas is going to sort it all out.”

Douglas smiles tightly at Martin, whose eyes are wide with horror. “Yes, don’t worry about it, Martin. You know me – I’ll sort it all out.”

“How?” Martin asks quietly.

“Oh, you know – I’ll make it up as I go along and it’ll all be fantastic and we’ll arrive back at Fitton with three minutes to spare and Arthur will call me ‘brilliant’ about fourteen times a minute,” Douglas says with as much confidence as he can muster. Even by his own standards he’s impressed at how easy he’s making it sound, despite the fact that right now he doesn’t have a clue where to start.

Arthur nods eagerly. “You see, Skip? Nothing to worry about,” he tells his former captain.

Martin turns to Carolyn. “Could Herc get here in time?” he asks her.

“He’s visiting his sister in Zweibrüchen,” she tells him. “Even if I asked, he’d have to get all the way to Munich for a direct flight here. It would take _hours_.”

“But you’re never going to find a pilot here who’s rated to fly GERTI!” Martin exclaims.

“ _Herc_ isn’t rated to fly her either,” Douglas points out.

“Right now I would take someone who has simply _sat_ in a cockpit,” Carolyn retorts, and Douglas shrugs his agreement. She turns back to Martin.

“It’s not your problem, Martin,” she tells him. “We’ve got out of worse messes than this one, and I’m sure we’ll think of something. I’ll ring Mr. Alyakhin and persuade him to delay the sale. It’ll be fine.”

Martin looks at her worriedly, then turns to his captain. “Maybe I could take some leave, even if it’s unpaid?” he suggests. “Atkins is meeting us here and flying back with us – he could take over from me for the return flight. I could be back in Zurich by tomorrow morning.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Zaragoza snaps. “You know you must apply for leave eight weeks in advance.”

“But as an emergency ...” Martin begins.

“Crieff, _you_ are my co-pilot, not Atkins,” Zaragoza cuts him off. “You have a job to do, and you can’t go off on some joyride whenever it suits you. Now, we must go, yes? We have paperwork to complete, a rest period to take, and then we fly back to Zurich.”

“Go, Martin,” Carolyn tells him. “We’ll sort it out ourselves.”

Martin hesitates.

“ _Go_ ,” she says sternly.

He nods reluctantly and steps closer to kiss her cheek. “Good luck,” he tells her before turning to shake Douglas’ hand. “Get this fixed,” he tells him.

“Trust me,” Douglas says as smoothly as he can manage. “I’ll email you from Zwickau in a couple of days’ time.”

Martin looks into his eyes for a long moment, clearly trying to work out whether his friend is as confident as he sounds, then nods and turns to hug Arthur.

“Bye,” Arthur says. “I wish we could have chatted for longer, but it was great seeing you again, Skip.”

“Fizz,” Martin says, forcing a smile.

“Buzz,” Douglas responds automatically.

“’ave a banana,” Arthur sings quietly. There’s little enthusiasm in his voice and he immediately steps closer to his mother’s side and leans against her as if in need of comfort. She puts an arm around him and looks at Martin, jerking her head to indicate that he should leave.

Zaragoza has been watching the group with a look of distaste. “Good luck to you,” he says insincerely, then turns and starts to walk away. Martin grimaces and follows him, but after only a few steps he stops and tugs on his commander’s sleeve.

“No, I can’t ...” he says frantically. He turns to Zaragoza with an anguished look. “I can’t just leave them like this, Captain. There _must_ be a way I can fly them back to England. Surely I can take compassionate leave?”

“You’re not entitled to compassionate leave until you have worked with the company for six months,” Zaragoza tells him impatiently. “You _know_ that, Crieff. Even unpaid leave is only permitted for genuine family emergencies, and this hardly qualifies.”

“I could resign,” Martin says with an air of desperation.

“Martin,” Carolyn says firmly, “you will do no such thing! I forbid it!”

“Well, of course you _can_ resign,” Zaragoza says serenely, “but your resignation will not take effect for six months. Really, Crieff, you know this, yes?” He smirks. “Everyone talks about the English pilot with all the regulations in his head. Anyone would think that you spend all your free time reading the manuals and doing nothing else. Now stop this nonsense and come with me.”

He starts to walk again and for a moment Martin falls in behind him, but he stops after a couple of paces.

“No.”

Zaragoza turns back, and his expression is stern. He opens his mouth but Martin speaks first.

“No. There’s _one_ way of leaving the company more quickly.”

“Oh God,” Douglas murmurs, starting to step towards his friend.

Martin holds up an imperious hand and Douglas is shocked to find himself stopping in his tracks. Martin draws himself up to his full – albeit not very impressive – height and stares up into Zaragoza’s eyes.

“If an employee is dismissed for gross professional misconduct, his or her employment is terminated immediately,” he quotes calmly.

Zaragoza’s eyes narrow.

“Any employee dismissed for gross professional misconduct shall be excluded from all company flights with immediate effect,” Martin continues. “If such a dismissal takes place while the employee is away from home, they must finance their own return.”

“First Officer Crieff,” Zaragoza says with exaggerated patience. “You will not do this. We all know how much you wanted this job in the first place. Captain Deroche still dines out on her story of your interview. If you are dismissed from Swiss Airways, you will never work in the aviation industry again. Now come with me.” He directs a withering look towards the others. “You are not going to throw away your career for this ludicrous little airline.”

Martin’s determined look falters and he slumps slightly. He looks at his friends apologetically before turning back to his captain.

“You’re right,” he says quietly.

Douglas sighs out a relieved breath.

“I’m throwing it away for my family,” Martin says, and swings the punch.

* * *

Martin is marched into Swiss Airways’ offices by security staff to be formally dismissed. The process takes over two hours and afterwards he is instructed to leave his uniform behind at the airport. He doesn’t have a change of clothes with him but Arthur scurries off to GERTI and comes back with a pair of black trousers and a white shirt belonging to Martin. He explains that he found them in a locker after he left and couldn’t bring himself to throw them away or send them on. The shirt is a little tight and Douglas is wondering whether to bet Martin that at least one of the buttons will ping off by the time they get back to Fitton, but he isn’t sure whether Martin’s ready for such banter. He seems to be in shock, his face pale and his voice quiet as he goes through the pre-flight checklist in GERTI’s cockpit, and when he’s not flicking switches or pressing buttons his fingers continually spasm into clenched fists. Douglas has advised Carolyn and Arthur to stay off the flight deck and he lets Martin get on with the checks, responding to each item on the list with crisp efficiency, allowing him to concentrate.

They’re in the air fifteen minutes later and as they level off, Martin lets out a quiet sob, but reins it in and instead begins to talk. Once he starts, he can’t seem to stop and the words pour out as he tells Douglas everything about his time with Swiss Air – how it was marvellous and terrible at the same time. He talks about how amazing it has been to be flying airliners, how much he enjoyed being in the cockpit, learning the new equipment, being responsible for such huge aeroplanes and their cargo and passengers. But his joy at work has been balanced by the loneliness; he never flies with the same crew twice and so has never really got to know anyone. Although he has a nice apartment just outside Zurich and lives near many of the other airline staff, he has been too shy to seek out company, doesn’t socialise with anyone and only gets to talk with friends by emailing Douglas, or by Skypeing with Theresa or with Arthur. Douglas realises that _this_ is why Arthur wouldn’t tell him about their conversations – the young steward clearly realised how miserable Martin was, but also understood that Martin wouldn’t want him to tell Douglas about it.

But apparently Martin is past caring now, and as he pours out all his unhappiness his tight grip on GERTI’s controls loosens and the tension in his face relaxes slightly. When they first spot the coastline of England ahead of them, Martin begins to smile a little, and shortly afterwards he laughs at something Douglas says. It’s a stupid one-liner and not all that funny but Martin bursts out laughing and simultaneously bursts a button on his shirt when he sucks in a frantic breath. Both of them stare as the button bounces off the windshield, then they crack up laughing and can’t stop themselves for almost two minutes. Martin’s laughter is a little hysterical but it’s clearly therapeutic. Douglas gets the feeling that it’s the first time that Martin has laughed properly for months.

They push GERTI as hard as she’ll go, but they land at Fitton forty minutes after Mr. Alyakhin’s rep was due to arrive to complete the transaction. Karl sounds amazed when he hears Martin’s voice over the comms, and babbles enthusiastically to him throughout the descent. At no point does Martin scold him for using the radio as a chat line. As they taxi towards the stand, Martin sees the banner still hanging from the control tower and half-cries, half-laughs at the mis-spelling.

While the pilots complete the shut-down checks, Carolyn hurries to MJN’s portacabin in the hope of finding the rep still waiting, but she is standing in the doorway looking disconsolate when the others arrive. Douglas puts a comforting hand on her shoulder as he walks in, and Martin lets out a shuddering sigh and flops onto the saggy sofa in the corner of the room. Carolyn sends Arthur to buy some decent coffees from the canteen, and disappears into her office to ring Mr. Alyakhin while Douglas sits down on a chair opposite Martin. They sit in silence for a few minutes, Douglas watching carefully while Martin gazes down into his lap. As his shoulders begin to hunch, Douglas realises that the gravity of what Martin has done is starting to sink in, and he hurries to try and distract him.

“You’re an idiot,” he tells the younger man bluntly. “I mean, what you did was probably the bravest and noblest thing I’ve ever seen from anyone, but you’re an idiot, Martin.”

Martin chokes out a laugh. “You’re welcome,” he says.

Douglas smiles. “You didn’t expect me to hug you and tell you how wonderful you were, did you?”

“Perish the thought,” Martin retorts, although he quirks a brief grin. He sighs. “So – that’s my flying career gone up the Swanee. Good job I didn’t get rid of Dad’s van. It looks like I’m going full time with Icarus Removals.”

“Oh, I’m sure we can come up with _something_ ,” Douglas says. “If Carolyn can talk Mr. Alyakhin round, maybe she can persuade him that he needs _two_ pilots to keep GERTI airborne.”

“From what Arthur told me, Carolyn had to work really hard to persuade him to take _you_ with the plane,” says Martin. “He’s never going to take both of us on, and you know it.”

“Well, maybe not,” Douglas concedes, “but there must be _some_ way you can stay in aviation.” He looks thoughtful. “What about retraining to teach flying? You’d get to go up in aeroplanes, even if they’re only light aircraft, and there must be an airfield somewhere around that would employ someone with your experience.”

Martin’s head lifts and a pensive look appears on his face. Just then Arthur totters into the portacabin carefully balancing a tray of coffee cups, and he’s still trying to remember how many sugars he put in each cup when Carolyn comes out of the office with several sheets of paper in her hand. Her expression is grave.

“Everything all right, Mum?” Arthur asks.

She walks over to him and gives him a gentle smile, and Douglas immediately goes onto full alert. He’s never seen such a soft affectionate look on her face. Martin also sees her expression and straightens up, his face anxious.

“Arthur,” she says quietly to her son. “You need to be very brave right now.”

“What’s the matter?” he asks her, his eyes filling with fear.

Carolyn sighs. “I’m sorry to have to tell you that your father has died.”

Douglas manages to catch the tray one-handed before it hits the floor.

* * *

After half an hour Arthur has more or less cried himself out in his mother’s arms and is now sitting on the sofa with his head on Martin’s shoulder, sniffling as Martin tightens his arm around him. Carolyn has walked over to the other side of room and is repeatedly chewing the inside of her mouth, still savagely gripping the papers she brought in earlier. Douglas goes over and speaks quietly.

“Is that Alyakhin’s paperwork?” he asks.

“No,” she says shortly. “Mr. Alyakhin left a message on the answerphone saying that the deal’s off. He wasn’t very complimentary about our inability to be here for his wretched rep. No, this ... _this_ ...” she brandishes the papers in Douglas’ face, “... is a copy of Gordon’s will. His solicitors were under instruction to send it to me upon his death. Oh, and by the way, he died three days ago. It’s taken them this long to notify me – and more importantly to notify his _son_.”

“Why didn’t his wife contact you?” Douglas asks.

“He left Hayley ages ago – the divorce has already gone through,” Carolyn tells him. “I don’t even know whether she’s been told – and right now I don’t care. This is just about the last straw.”

Again she clenches the papers. “The solicitors emailed this to me as soon as I returned their voicemail message,” she says. “He’s left pretty much his entire estate to Arthur as his only child. According to the solicitors, Gordon was worth about three and a half million pounds.”

Douglas lets out a low whistle. “Good for Arthur,” he says.

“Oh, yes, good for Arthur,” Carolyn says. “Except you know what he’ll want to do with the money, don’t you?”

“He’ll give it to you to keep MJN going,” Douglas realises instantly. “Well, if it’s what he _wants_ , and if you’re willing to keep the company going, why shouldn’t he?”

“Because he _can’t_ ,” she snaps loudly.

Arthur looks up from Martin’s shoulder and wipes his hand under his nose. “Are you all right, Mum?” he asks.

“I’m fine, dear heart,” she tells him gently, “but I need to talk to Douglas in private if you’ll be all right out here?”

Arthur nods, and Martin gives her a reassuring smile. “I’ll be right here,” he tells her.

Douglas and Carolyn go into her office, and she whirls on him as soon as he closes the door. “That bastard has put a clause in his will which specifies that under no circumstances is Arthur allowed to give a single penny of his inheritance to me,” she grates. “Arthur’s money will be managed by a team of accountants appointed by Gordon’s executors, and every penny he spends will have to be accounted for. If Arthur tries to give any of it to me, they can block the transaction immediately.”

She sighs. “I don’t _want_ Arthur to give me money to keep MJN going, Douglas,” she says more quietly. “But he loves the company – you know that. As soon as he knows that he could save MJN, he’ll want to do it, and that selfish git is ruining Arthur’s dream just because he hated me. And now that the deal to sell GERTI has fallen through, he can’t even help me buy the house in Zeals. Oh, he could buy it outright, I imagine, and let me live there with him, but I don’t know if I would even be allowed to run it as a business, so the bed and breakfast idea is kyboshed.”

Her mouth tightens. “And I really don’t like the idea of moving into _Arthur’s_ house like some poor old lady living in a granny annexe.”

Douglas lifts his head. Something Carolyn just said has triggered an alert in his head, but he can’t put his finger on it yet.

“I’m no legal expert,” he tells her, “but do you mind if I take a look at the will?”

“Feel free,” she says, thrusting the crumpled papers into his hand, “but the very smug solicitor to whom I spoke has reassured me that there’s no getting round the terms.”

She heads towards the door. “I don’t know _how_ I’m going to break this to Arthur,” she says. “He’s had enough shocks for one day: you trying to kill yourself by falling out of GERTI; then Martin beating up his captain and getting sacked; then losing his father ...” She sighs shakily. “The last thing he needs to be told is that he’s a multi millionaire but he can’t even save the company he loves.”

“Arthur’s stronger than you think,” Douglas tells her. “Just be gentle with him.”

“I have every intention of being gentle,” she snaps.

Douglas looks at her pointedly. She stops with her hand on the door handle.

“Yes, all right,” she tells him. Taking a deep breath and forcibly lowering her hunched shoulders, she throws him a grateful smile before leaving the room.

Douglas sits down in Carolyn’s chair, adjusts the sling on his arm and makes himself comfortable, then begins to read the will. After three minutes he purses his lips thoughtfully.

After three more minutes he begins to smile.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

“But _why_ can’t I?” Arthur is asking as Douglas rejoins the others. From the tired looks on Carolyn’s and Martin’s faces, this is probably about the eighth time that he has asked the question.

“Oh, Arthur,” Carolyn sighs wearily. “I’ve told you why.”

“But if Dad’s given me this money, surely I can spend it however I want,” Arthur protests. “I mean, it’d be lovely to go and live in the control tower, but all I really want is for us to keep flying GERTI. Ooh, couldn’t we move MJN to Zeals and re-open the airfield and ask Karl and George and Dirk and the others to come and work for us there?”

“Arthur, you’re not _that_ rich,” Martin tells him with an exasperated laugh. “And even if you were and you opened Zeals as an airfield, you’d need a working control tower, so where would _you_ live?”

“Oh, yeah, I hadn’t thought of that,” Arthur says. He turns to his mother again. “But _why_ can’t I give you the money to keep MJN going?”

“Arthur,” Douglas interrupts. “Can I have a word with you in the office?”

Carolyn looks at him suspiciously. “What are you up to?” she asks.

“Nothing,” Douglas says casually. “Just need a chat with young Mr. Moneybags here.”

Arthur looks around the portacabin in bewilderment.

“That’s _you_ , Arthur,” Douglas tells him. “Come with me, if you don’t mind.”

He looks reassuringly at Carolyn, whose frown instantly deepens, but she takes her arm from around her son.

“Keep it simple,” she says, and Douglas winces.

“God help me,” he murmurs, ushering Arthur into the office and closing the door. “Take a seat,” he says.

Arthur looks at his mother’s chair for a moment, but instead chooses the seat on the other side of the desk.

“All right, Arthur,” Douglas begins as he takes Carolyn’s chair. “I know you’ve had a hard day and you’re very sad about your dad dying, but I really do need you to concentrate now.”

“Oh dear,” Arthur says nervously.

“Oh dear indeed,” Douglas agrees. He settles more comfortably into the chair and puts the will onto the table between them. “Do you trust me, Arthur?”

“Of course I do,” Arthur asserts immediately.

“Good. Now, I’m going to be completely honest with you. You know that Gordon didn’t like your mum very much, and that’s why he has done this horrible thing with his will, right? No matter how much you don’t like it, you’re not allowed to give Carolyn any money, so you can’t pay for her to run MJN, and you can’t help her buy the house in Zeals.”

“But I _want_ to,” Arthur protests.

“And you _can’t_ ,” Douglas insists. “It doesn’t matter how much you want to – you _can’t_. That’s the law, and if we try to fight Gordon’s will it’ll cost a great deal of money, and we might lose, and then you’d have even less money that you can’t give to Carolyn.”

He blinks. He’s starting to talk like Arthur, and while the young man might just understand him better that way, it’s important to tell him what he’s realised from looking through the will.

“The thing is, Gordon was determined that you shouldn’t be allowed to give any of your money to your mother, all right? You can’t just write a cheque for, say, a million pounds and give it to her, do you understand?”

Arthur nods.

“But from what I can tell from this will – and we’ll have to get it checked by our own lawyers,” Douglas continues, “Gordon was so fixated on not letting you _give_ money to Carolyn that he didn’t make it more explicit.”

“What’s ‘explicit’?” Arthur asks.

“He didn’t make it clear what _else_ you can do with the money,” Douglas explains. “You can’t hand over money to your mother as a gift ... but you can _buy_ MJN from her, in a proper legal transaction.”

Arthur’s eyes are wide. “Me buy MJN?” he asks.

“Yes,” Douglas assures him. “If you buy the entire company and its aeroplane from Carolyn, you won’t be _giving_ her money; you’ll be exchanging money in order to purchase your own business, and as far as I can tell Gordon’s accountants won’t be able to do a thing to stop you.”

“Me buy MJN?” Arthur asks again.

“Let’s not get into a loop here, Arthur,” Douglas says hurriedly. “Now, like I said, we’ll need to get this checked by lawyers, but I’m fairly sure that if you really want MJN to keep going, you _can_ buy it and run it as your own business.”

“Wow,” Arthur says.

“That just about sums it up,” Douglas agrees.

“Me buy MJN,” Arthur says thoughtfully.

“And here we are again,” Douglas says ruefully. He presses onwards. “And to convince Gordon’s lawyers that you’re making a proper purchase of the company and not just handing the money to your mother in some sneaky legerdemain – even though that’s _exactly_ what you’ll be doing, but let’s not go into that here – I would advise you to change the name of the airline. But there’s no need to make it too complicated – after all, you don’t want to have to repaint the _entire_ tail fin. Why don’t you change it from, say, MJN to _A_ JN?”

“Okay,” Arthur agrees. Then he frowns. “What does the ‘A’ stand for?”

Douglas sighs. “What do you _think_ it stands for?”

Arthur looks at him blankly. Douglas does his best to remain patient – did he really expect this to be easy? He takes a calming breath.

“What does MJN stand for, Arthur?”

“My Jet Now,” Arthur tells him promptly.

“And Carolyn gave the company that name to make it clear to your father that GERTI belonged to her now. So, to prove that this is a proper legal purchase and that _you_ own the company now, you would change the name to _A_ JN.”

“But what does the ‘A’ stand for?” Arthur asks again.

Douglas silently reminds himself that throttling his potential new boss is not a good idea. “Well, once you’ve bought the company, who will own GERTI?” he asks tightly.

“Me,” Arthur tells him with an expression which suggests he’s awfully proud of having worked that out.

“And you are ...?” asks Douglas.

Arthur’s self-satisfied expression fades and he frowns with concentration.

“Um ... _happy_ about it?” he asks tentatively.

“Arthur!” Douglas snaps. “You are _Arthur_!”

“Well, I know _that_ , Douglas,” the young man tells him with a hurt look. “I’m not a _total_ clot.”

“That is still open to some dispute,” Douglas tells him tiredly, “but we don’t have time to wait for the jury to return a verdict. MJN will become AJN because it will stand for ‘Arthur’s Jet Now’.

“Oh, wow!” Arthur cries excitedly. “Because GERTI will belong to me!”

“Yes, she will,” Douglas tells him gravely.

“But I don’t know anything about how to run a business!” Arthur says frantically.

“No, you don’t – which is why you’ll need a CEO to run it for you,” Douglas says. “And I think I know the perfect person who you could employ to do that. She’s been running an airline for some years now, and she’s about to become jobless, so why don’t you consider her?”

“You mean Mum,” Arthur says thoughtfully.

“Yes, I _do_ mean Mum,” Douglas replies. “I suspect she might not be _all_ that delighted at the thought of becoming your employee but I reckon we can talk her round.”

“But I’d be giving her money to work for me,” Arthur frets.

“You’d be employing her to do a job,” Douglas says, impressed that Arthur is finally starting to understand the terms of his father’s will, “not just giving her money to do you a favour.”

He sits back, beginning to enjoy himself now that Arthur seems to be on board with the idea. “Now, as a diligent employer, you might insist on coming on every flight just to make sure that everything goes well – and because you’re a friendly hands-on sort of boss, you might want to help out your staff by, say, showing clients to their seats and making drinks for them, and providing tea and coffee to your hard-working pilots, and maybe even heating up the meals and handing them out. You might be _such_ a devoted employer that you might even offer to stay behind and tidy up your aeroplane after it has finished each job.”

“But I do that anyway ...” Arthur begins, then his eyes widen. “Oh yeah, and I could still do it!”

“Yes you could – but only if you wanted to, of course,” says Douglas.

“Oh yeah, thanks, Douglas! I’d love to!” Arthur says excitedly.

“Thought so,” Douglas muses. “And with your new-found wealth I reckon you could afford to employ ... oh, let’s say _two_ pilots to fly your plane? Again, it’s entirely up to you who you choose but I happen to know two very experienced pilots who are looking for work right now. They’re a right couple of crooks who have a bad habit of getting fired from their jobs, but they’re available if you can’t find anyone else.”

“You mean ...” Arthur starts.

“Yes, I do,” Douglas tells him, “and quite coincidentally both of them are in this building right now, so you can interview them straightaway. How convenient for you – you don’t even need to put an advert in the paper.”

He grins at the new airline executive ... correction, the new air _dot_ executive. “And if one of the pilots should want to take time off to ... oh, I don’t know ... to flit off regularly to somewhere like Vaduz to visit a princess – ridiculous as that proposition may sound – then there’s a rather useful stand-by pilot sitting around with nothing much to do who I’m sure would be glad of the money.”

He stops and blinks, startled as he realises what a massive favour he’s doing for Herc. Then he shrugs. Herc is going to owe him _big_ time. He’s already looking forward to calling that favour in – repeatedly.

Arthur’s excited look is fading. “Douglas,” he asks tentatively, “will this really work?”

“I don’t know for certain,” Douglas tells him honestly. “But if you really want it, we’ll do everything we can to _make_ it work.”

“I really want it,” Arthur says determinedly. “I really _really_ want it. It would be br...”

He breaks off, his eyes filling with tears. “It would be brilliant, Douglas,” he whispers.

“Yes, it bloody well would,” Douglas agrees. He stands up. “So, Mr. Shappey, sir – shall we go and tell the others just how marvellous I’ve been today?”

“Yes please,” Arthur says eagerly.

* * *

Carolyn still seems to be in shock. Douglas isn’t sure whether she’s reeling from his own genius, or stunned at the news that she’s about to start working for her son. Martin is veering between near-hysterical laughter and hushed whispers of “But is it legal?” and “Will it work?” whenever Douglas goes anywhere near him. Douglas has given up replying to him. Arthur is in the corner doodling on bits of paper and Douglas fears that GERTI is going to have more than just _part_ of her tail fin repainted if the varied drawings of the letters ‘AJN’ are anything to go by, especially if the pictures around the lettering are actually going to be incorporated into the company’s new logo. Walking past and squinting at the artwork, Douglas wonders how he’s going to persuade his boss that pictures of otters and yellow cars aren’t quite appropriate for an airline.

Eventually Carolyn pulls herself together a little and heads for the office to phone her solicitors. It’s long past six p.m. and the offices are bound to be closed, but she says she’ll leave a message on their voicemail demanding an appointment at the earliest opportunity.

When she returns a few minutes later she has a bemused look on her face.

“I forgot to change our voicemail to say that MJN wasn’t taking any more work,” she says. “I’ve just picked up a message. We’ve been offered a job next Thursday, flying engineering equipment to Zhulyany International. As it’s in Ukraine, we’ll need two pilots.” She smiles at Douglas and Martin whimsically. “Are you two available, by any chance?”

“Oh, I might be able to fit it into my busy schedule,” Douglas says airily. “The shoulder should be all right by then. What d’you think, Martin?”

“I’ll need to check my diary,” Martin replies, “but seeing as it’s you, Carolyn, I don’t mind doing you a favour just this once.” He rather spoils his casual response by letting out another high-pitched giggle.

“Well, that’s most kind of the pair of you,” Carolyn says with a twinkle in her eye.

“Excellent,” Douglas says. “Now, how about dinner? You can drive us into town, Carolyn, and we can eat at that new Italian restaurant on Zavala Street. Oh, and Arthur? You’re paying.”

Arthur looks up at this. “Oh,” he says worriedly. “Um, Mum? Can I borrow some money please?”

“Certainly, dear,” she says pleasantly. “If I can give a free flight to Mr. Birling, it will be my utmost joy to lend money to yet another multi-millionaire.”

“Brilliant,” Arthur smiles. “Thanks, Mum.”

“Come on, Martin,” Douglas says. “Oh, and you can stay at my place until you sort out somewhere to live and get your stuff shipped back from Zurich. In the meantime we can spend the next few weeks arguing about which of us is going to be captain and which the first officer.”

Martin opens his mouth, an imminent protest obvious from his expression, then he smiles. “It’ll help pass the time,” he says cheerfully.

“Oh, don’t worry – I’ve sorted that out already,” Arthur tells them. “I’m going to get new uniforms for you and they’ll have three stripes on one arm and four stripes on the other one. That way, one of you can be captain on the flight out, and the other can be captain on the flight home and you don’t even have to swap jackets!”

Martin turns to Douglas with a face full of horror. “We’ll look like idiots!” he hisses.

“Martin,” Douglas says calmly. “We’ve worked for MJN for over five years and the entire _time_ has been idiotic. Within the next few months we’ll transfer to a new company called _Arthur’s Jet Now_ which is probably going to have polar bears and fire trucks and umbrella Christmas trees in its logo. Do you think we stand a hope in hell of looking anything _like_ professional pilots?”

Martin thinks it over for a moment, then shrugs. “Oh, who cares?” he says with a grin. “At least we’ll be flying.”

“Come on, you,” Carolyn tells her son. “Let’s get our pilots fed and watered.”

“Okay!” Arthur says excitedly, grabbing his jacket. “I’m ready, Mum!”

“Fizz!” Martin yelps.

“Buzz!” Douglas responds cheerily.

The three men turn and look expectantly at Carolyn. She rolls her eyes before directing her sternest glare at each one of them in turn.

“I hate you all,” she tells them, then draws herself up to her full height and strikes a dramatic pose as she bursts into song.

“’ave a banana!”

Looking fondly at his friends while they all break into laughter, Douglas muses that Martin isn’t the only one who would happily throw away a proper career for them. The pang of affection he is currently feeling for these ridiculous but amazing people is almost bringing a tear to his eye. Either that, or Arthur has been dusting in here too.

But nevertheless, he is Douglas Richardson and he should always have the last word.

“Let’s get going,” he says. “I’ve been wanting to try out the new Italian place for ages.” He smirks at the others. “With the day we’ve had so far, we can only hope that they’ll have zuppa, zucchini and zabaglione on the menu tonight.”

“Yes, and zemolina!” Martin blurts out. Carolyn raises an eyebrow at him and he cringes apologetically, but then she smiles.

“That’s actually not bad,” she tells him approvingly. “Well done, Martin! Now let’s go and eat.”

“Brilliant,” Arthur beams.

Smiling, Douglas leads his family from the portacabin with no further comment.

Because ‘brilliant’ should _always_ be the final word.


End file.
